Diane Blackmailed

...continued from Chapter 2...

As she swung her leg outward, she felt Lars' hand on her knee. "Things have changed just a little bit." He removed his hand. "It's better if you don't know."

==========

Diane felt herself getting more and more nervous as she was led through the house and down a flight of stairs. The two men escorting her talked casually about this weekend's basketball game, ignoring her completely. When they reached the bottom of the steps, they stopped. She heard metal grating against metal, then the men moved her forward again. They descended another flight of steps. That surprised her - a two-level basement?

She felt a chill against her face and smelled dampness in the air. When they got to the bottom of the steps, she felt the ground soft underneath her boots. Where were they? She wanted to ask but knew that she was expected to remain silent. It had become second nature after her first few punishments for speaking out of turn.

They stopped again. She smelled something new in the air. A musky smell she recognized instantly - sweat and leather. It excited her. She remembered how often she'd smelled this way during a session.

The sound of metal clicking - someone was unlocking a door. Hinges grating and sounds from inside another room. Men's voices talking quietly, a glass clinking against a table. And heavy breathing.

Her escorts walked her toward the sound of the breathing. She recognized it. Someone close to orgasm. A man. Something in his mouth muffled the sound, but it was definitely a male voice. The smell of sweat got stronger. Someone pushed their toe into the back of her knee and she knelt obediently. Reflexively, her hands crossed at the small of her back. She heard the man's breathing stop and a low moan escape his throat. Then, the unmistakable sound of a flogger cracking against flesh. He grunted and she felt a breeze as one of his legs moved near her cheek.

Two hands grabbed her head and gently pushed her face forward until she felt her nose press gently against the base of his cock, her lips brushing his balls. He moaned and she heard the flogger hit him again.

"Go on, do what you can to make him feel better," she heard a jeering voice. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, licking the soft flesh and thick hair. He moaned and they continued hitting him. She felt his cock twitching against her nose, banging her forehead. Diane opened wide and took both of his balls between her lips and into her mouth, letting them roll on her tongue. She felt his thighs quiver. From the flogging or from her mouth?

After a few seconds more, Diane reached for him with her gloved right hand. She slid her hand down his shaft and he came immediately, spurting cum onto the helmet and goggles and all over her hand. He groaned loudly and pushed his crotch hard against her face. She gently sucked his balls, pushing her tongue between them, milking him with her hand. She felt his body go limp and fall backward against the wall.

The flogging stopped. The room was quiet except for the man's rapid and shallow breathing. Diane pulled her head back and licked his shaft clean, then the tops of his thighs. He moaned and rocked his hips side to side. When she was finished, she leaned back on her heels and crossed her hands at the small of her back again.

"Excellent. Excellently done, Diane." She recognized the voice, it was John. "A true whore knows how to behave even without being given instructions." She felt hands touching her shoulders, he was standing behind her.

"Now, Carlos is going to repay you." She heard shuffling and the sounds of metal buckles being undone. Carlos was being freed. But for what? Leather creaking and bodies moving. The hands on her shoulders massaged her gently, she let herself relax. Whatever was coming up, she knew she would like it. This was the consensual group, the ones she's sought out, the ones she had an agreement with. Not like Monish's group. Monish had been in a session with her, but found out personal information and was blackmailing her. Nobody in this group - Lars' group - knew about it. And it had to remain that way. Monish had threatened Lars' life if she told him.

Diane worked hard to push Monish out of her head and focus on what was going on. She felt herself lifted up by two men and carried across the room. Then, she was lowered onto what felt like a saddle. She was about three feet off the ground - her feet didn't touch the floor - and from the leather smell and the feel inside her thighs, it was a saddle, the smaller English style. She smiled. Black leather. It figured.

"Carlos will carry you around the room. Any man who wants to use your mouth needs only to let Carlos know and you will be delivered to him." Diane flinched, realizing what this meant. Carlos had been saddled and she was riding him. This was something new for her.

"Let's see what she has to keep us interested." She felt John's hands on her, unzipping the jacket. "So that we will want her to suck our cocks." He pulled it off of her and stepped back. "We all enjoy watching your big titties bounce, don't we?" She took the clue and jiggled them for him. The fabric felt good against her skin and her nipples stiffened. She started getting turned on and looked forward to having cock in her mouth.

"We have one more treat for you." Diane felt the saddle start to vibrate. They'd constructed a fiendish Sybian type device for her. She remembered her weeks and weeks of training on the device and knew she wouldn't last long. It had been one of the earliest things they'd done to her, masturbating her for hours on end with that and other devices. She couldn't even look at a vibrator in the drug store without feeling her cunt gush. Early on, she'd been embarrassed to cum in front of them, now she craved it.

For the next two hours, Diane rocked back and forth on the saddle, alternately cumming and sucking but often doing both. They broke the action at ten o'clock and all relaxed, Diane and Carlos lying side by side, still in the center of the floor, sipping ice water while Lars and the others planned out the rest of the evening.

----

Diane heard the alarm clock buzz and rolled over on her side, groggy and disoriented. She opened her eyes. It was five o'clock, something was wrong. She'd got home from Lars session last night at eleven thirty, taken a hot shower and set the alarm clock for seven, looking forward to her first full-night's sleep in a long time.

Maybe she'd made a mistake, pressed the wrong buttons. She could reset it. Diane reached for the lamp on the nightstand, turned it on. The light flooded the room and she jerked up. Monish was sitting on a chair beside her bed, two of his henchmen standing behind him. The chair was turned backward and he was resting his head on his folded arms.

"Ah, you're awake."

Diane panicked. She knew that he knew where she lived, he'd snatched her outside her house that first time, when the blackmail started, but he'd never been inside. Or had he? She thought hard for clues over the last weeks - had there things out of place, doors left open or closed? She couldn't think clearly though. The point was, he was there now. And not alone. Her mind raced. How many people knew where she lived? How many of his men had keys?

"I hear you have a meeting at nine. That's nice, that gives you plenty of time. I have a reallyredheads loaded client at the Sheraton on Fifth street who likes to torture titties on big busty redheads about five-eight." Monish pulled a red wig out of a bag and threw it onto the bed. "You'll do." He threw a key and a piece of paper with an address on the bed. "He's already paid. You can take a tip." The three of them got up and left the room.

She stared at the wig. Tit torture? Was he kidding? She'd been through so much with Lars over the last years that she wasn't afraid. She was more afraid of missing the meeting. It was a big client they'd been doing work for over ten years. He was considering moving his accounts to another agency and she would be the one making the pitch for their team. She needed a full night's sleep and some prep time. But it wasn't going to happen. Monish wouldn't let it.

She got up and took a quick shower, then pulled on a one piece black dress and black panties. If he wanted titty, showing up naked would be best. Especially with her D cups. Diane calculated that if she could show him a good time in under an hour, she could be changed and in the office by eight, which would still give her time for a cup of coffee and some preparation.

She laid her business suit in a carry-on bag along with a change of underwear and shoes. Five twenty. Great. The hotel was a twenty minute drive, park, walk, elevator to the room...her brain worked quickly as she walked to the car. The plan still left plenty of time. She unlocked the car and headed toward the freeway. That would be the quickest way to the hotel. She shook her head, amazed that she was taking it to calmly. Was she adjusting to this life? To being Monish's call girl? She turned on the radio, listened to the weather report and the local news. More budget cuts, more controversy, rain coming.

The exit was coming up and she changed lanes, saw the familiar big S of the building just past the off ramp. She looked at the drive-through coffee kiosk and though about grabbing a quick cut but didn't want to risk her schedule.

The valet was standing at the front door, she decided that the few dollars were worth the few extra minutes she would save not walking across the parking lot. She got out, noticed his eyes locked on her chest as her tits shifted and swung under the thin material. She grabbed the envelope with the address and room key, handed him her car keys and walked toward the front door. Just as the driver pulled away, she caught her reflection in one of the lobby mirrors. The skirt was short, sleeveless and lowcut and she showed a lot of flesh. Her lips were a burgundy red and her hair...Diane panicked. She'd forgotten the wig!

She felt her entire plan collapse, she would miss the meeting, she would be fired. She went weak and nearly collapsed to the floor. She dropped to one knee and the bell captain rushed to help her stand up. "Are you OK?" She turned to him, fear in her eyes and said, trembling "I need my car back, I just had the valet take it but I need it back! Now!" She ran to the door and looked in the direction he had driven.

"Ma'am, the lot is only a few blocks away. He should be back in two or three..."

"I don't have that much time! Is there a taxi?" Her eyes were wide and her pulse was racing. Two or three minutes to walk back, then another two or three to go back to the car.

"I assure you, he will..."

She ran toward the curb, waved her arm at the taxi driver leaning against his car. "Quick! Quick!" she yelled. He turned his head, took a draw from a cigarette and asked "Where you going?"

"Just get in the fucking car, I need to get home! Now!" The man didn't move. He was looking her up and down, sized her up as a whore coming off of a trick and needing a ride back to her pimp's place.

"Home?" he asked, sarcastically. The bell captain walked up behind her and said, "is there something I should know?" Diane was trembling now with anger and fear. She said to the driver as casually as she could, "I need a ride. Sorry, I"m just in a really big hurry. I have to get home and change to get to a meeting...I was out a little late last night..."

The bell captain looked at her. "But you just gave your car to the valet. You just got here." The driver stepped around the car and stood beside her, his eyes on her chest. "Yeah, honey, what's the story here?"

"I...just need a ride," she said feebly, lowering her head and trying hard not to cry.

The driver chuckled and tapped the bell captain on the shoulder. He raised his head and saw that the driver was pointing at Diane's empty hands. "No purse. How you gonna pay for the ride?"

The bell captain asked for the envelope. She handed it to him meekly. He opened it, saw the room number and single key. "I think we know what's going on here." He turned to Diane. "Don't we?"

The driver laughed. "What happened, someone change his mind?" The bell captain nudged him. "Or were you going home to pick up some toys you forgot to bring?"

Diane was trapped and knew it. Her situation was hopeless, her mind spun. They could call the police if they wanted to, turn her in for solicitation. She could offer the men sex, she could steal the taxi, she could go upstairs and try to please the man who wanted a redhead. She felt herself going weak again with despair.

"Ma'am, here's the claim check." She turned and saw the valet holding a small yellow ticket. The two men looked at him. The taxi driver mumbled "fuck" and the bell captain waved his hand and walked back into the hotel. Diane wiped her eyes and told the man to bring her car around. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

In five minutes, she was back on the freeway, racing for home. She ran in and grabbed the wig, ran back out and rushed to the hotel. Over an hour lost and she wasn't even in the room being abused yet.

=====

Diane bit her lip hard and squirmed against the ropes. She held her breath but it didn't help. Curtis was good. When he let go of the weight, the pain was too much and she let out a small yelp of pain.

"Sit still, I want another picture," he said. Diane tried to keep her body from trembling but it was impossible. She looked at herself in the mirror behind the tripod. She was tied to a wooden chair, legs wide apart, ankles crossed and tied between the legs of the chair. Her arms were tied behind her as well and there were coils of rope wrapped around her waist, then just above and below her tits. He'd pulled the wig off as soon as she came through the door, it was obvious and he was angry. But he was also impatient. He'd put it back on her, but rearranged it the way he liked, hanging down to cover most of her eyes, the rest pulled back into a pony tail. He's stuffed a pillow between her shoulders which made her push her chest out forward obscenely, her body straining against the ropes and tits hanging free.

His approach was elegant and simple. He'd attached a pumping device to her breasts and let it run for ten minutes. During this time, he's taken a series of pictures, moving around her with a digital SLR, capturing her face, her breasts, her upper body.

After ten minutes, her nipples were swollen and engorged with blood. When he removed the cups, just a touch of his finger made her gasp with pain. He'd flick them with one hand and shoot another photo with the other.

Then, he pulled each of her nipples between his finger and thumb and attached a series of three rubber-tipped spring clamps in a straight line across each one, the center one on the nipple, the other two directly beside. It was the most intense pain she could remember and she could tell that he was just getting started. Curtis touched each of the clamps in series, moving the pain across her chest left to right, right to left.

He stepped back and set his camera on a tripod, then pressed a button that made the camera snap nonstop. He continued flicking and pulling the clamps while the camera documented her agony. Then, he stopped the camera and carefully ran a piece of twine through the springs of each set, tying them in a small loop that hung free beneath each tittie.

"Now, we are starting to feel something like pain," he said, tugging the strings tight with his fingers. Diane leaned forward, trying to move with him, but he was always a step ahead, tugging to the side or up and down, always just out of reach. She was panting hard now and starting to swim into her private subspace. She was scared because she knew that if she did that, she would lose any sense of time or place and her meeting wouldn't matter. Nothing would matter, only letting her body respond to the arousal she was feeling from the pain.

Curtis rested for a minute, walking across the room to his luggage and removing a small case. He sat it on the nightstand in front of her. It was a variety of weights, each with a small hook attached. She groaned.

"Ah, you know, then, do you?" He ran his finger along the top of the selection. They ranged from 2 ounces to 10 ounces. Curtis reached for a six ounce and hung one from each piece of twine. Diane nearly fainted from the pain. He swung them side to side, finger wiping tears from her eyes. He put the damp finger between her legs, touching her clit lightly. She felt her cunt swell and a fresh wave of pain as her nipples stiffened.

Curtis took more pictures, then attached two more 6 ounce weights. "Shake them for me," he commanded. Diane moved her shoulders and her breasts swung gently side to side, the pain roaring through her brain and blocking out everything else. She felt something change and opened her eyes. Curtis had placed his hands underneath the weights and lifted them. He was raising and lowering them slowly, never letting the strings go tense.

"No, no, no," she pleaded. He leaned forward and put his mouth against hers. She reflexively opened her lips and offered him her tongue. He pushed into her mouth, she kissed him hard and passionately, hoping to distract him but knowing all the time the odds were against her. Fetishists were not easily distracted. She sucked his tongue and heard him start to moan. Maybe he was going to cum. She moaned and squirmed in the chair, knowing he would hear it.

He pulled back slightly. "You're getting hot, aren't you?" She froze, she knew the tone in his voice. She'd miscalculated. He wasn't getting close at all, he was getting her closer. He was too damned good to be fucking around with Monish. She felt his free hand between her legs, touching her clit, massaging her helpless body toward the edge.

She whimpered, "please, please, let me suck your...ARRRRHHHHH!!!!" she screamed as he turned his palm and the weights dropped free. But she saw his face and quickly looked at his hand. It was down the front of his pants. He'd cum too, unloaded into his hand just at the moment he'd dropped the weights.

Curtis stood up and said loudly, "I'm finished." He picked up his camera and tripod just as the bathroom door opened. Two of Monish's thugs walked out. Curtis nodded at one of them and they walked to Diane and began to untie her.

===

Diane pushed the elevator button, pushed it again harder, rammed it over and over with her finger. Panic flooded through her. The panel on the wall was lit up showing the floors the elevators were on. They were all standing still, frozen in time, taunting her, teasing her. She clutched the folder to her chest and shoved her thumb at the UP button again.

She'd come too far to let the elevator make her late. After she was untied, she'd ran to her car to get her clothes, back into the hotel to change in the lobby bathroom, cleaned up as well as she could, and raced to the office. It was five minutes before nine, no time to review the presentation, no time for breakfast, no time to go over the tactical plan with Mr. Vader before the meeting.

"Diane, it's fine." She heard Bailey's voice behind her and froze. What was he doing here? Had he followed her? She turned around. He looked at her, smiled. "You look like you need this." He was holding two cups of black coffee, offered one to her. She took it but didn't drink. His smile scared her, there was something evil behind it but she didn't know exactly what. His face was perfect, clean-shaven and handsome, his suit light grey and impeccable. Even his tie was perfection.

"I took the liberty of moving the meeting to nine-thirty."

"You what??"

He raised his hand. "Nothing to worry about. I know you like to be early for these kinds of things, to be prepared. When I saw that you weren't in the office at eight, I called and pushed back the meeting. Blamed it on a computer problem. Everything's fine. I even talked to Vader." He lifted the cup to his lips and blew, then took a sip. "Of course, he wants me in on the meeting now." He took another sip of coffee. "You and me may even split the commission."

Her head was swimming. Was he after her job too? Did he expect her to be grateful that he'd changed the meeting time? Was she supposed to offer herself to him as a 'thank you'?

The elevator door opened and they pushed in ahead of a dozen other riders. She felt Bailey pressed up against her as they rode upward. He didn't touch her but she was on edge the entire ride.

When they got off of the elevator, she went to her office to try and pull herself together. She took off her shoes and leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes. Her attention went straight to her tities. Her nipples were still sore and tender, she'd felt them every step of the way down the hall, felt them now. Worse, when she felt the pain, she felt her nipples stiffen, pushing against the bra and starting the cycle all over again. Pain, arousal, pain, arousal. She wanted to touch herself, get off just once before the meeting to clear her head, but she knew better. Mr. Vader had already given clues that he could smell arousal on her, she didn't need that.

Vader. She looked at the clock, it was nine-fifteen. She still had time for a pre-meeting pow wow with him to talk strategy. She slid into her shoes and headed down the hall. As she passed the conference room, she froze. Vader was already there. So was the client's entire team. They were sitting at the long table, briefcases opened, papers spread out, coffee and water poured. Bailey was wrong. And she was late. Diane felt her gut twist. She'd been on the floor at nine o'five, just a few minutes late, but she'd spent ten minutes in her office swimming in a trivial sexual fantasy while the clients and Vader waited and stewed.

Vader looked up at her and she panicked. His face was calm but she could read his real reaction in his eyes. He motioned to her but she shook her head. She didn't have her papers with her, she'd have to go back to her office. Another delay. Another example of her performance slipping. Her thought scurried in her head - could she get through the meeting without her papers? Did Vader have copies? She didn't remember. She never fucked up so bad, she always had the details nailed before.

"You left this in your office." She heard Bailey's voice behind her and turned around. He was holding her folder in his hand.

"What happened?" she asked. Bailey gave her a puzzled look. "I don't know, Vader said he had it under control." He looked into the room, saw Vader's face. "You'd better get in there."

She took the folder, whispered a grateful, "thanks, I owe you one," cringed at how obvious that must have sounded and went into the room.

Vader made apologies for her without asking her anything, then said he would continue with the background review, then turn the floor over to her for their future plans. Diane smiled, nodded at her counterpart on their team, and sat down. As Vader stepped to the whiteboard, Diane opened her folder. Her face went white. The white piece of paper had a single sentence typed in uppercase: DIANE - PARTY PHOTOS. She could barely see the first 8X10 through the white paper, Diane on the bed and a line of men standing nearby. She didn't need to thumb through the stack to guess what the rest of the photos were.

Diane did her best to appear casual as she closed the folder, but inside, she was shrinking. Bailey had set her up. He'd lied to her about the time of the meeting, then handed her the wrong folder. No, the right folder but the wrong contents. That means he'd gone into her office, picked up the folder, switched out the photos for her notes, and followed her down the hall. Everything he'd done this morning had been calculated. How did he know? Was he in with Monish? Was he part of the blackmail chain?

"Ms. Bates?" The client's marketing manager called her name. "Ms. Bates?" Diane pulled her focus into the room and looked at the woman. "Did you consider that?" Diane's head spun, she hadn't heard anything that Vader or their team had said. She looked at Vader. He nodded slightly toward the board. He'd written the word "language?" next to one of his bullet points. Language? Did that mean language translation, casual versus formal language in their ads, the language to print the instruction manuals and annual statements?

She took her best guess, tried to keep it general. "Yes, we will take languages into account." Several heads in the room turned to look at her. Vader lowered his eyes and shook his head slightly.

"No, Ms. Bates, the question was whether or not our legal teams would be able to agree on language for the ongoing website support." She turned around in her chair, clearly disgusted.

Vader jumped in to rescue the exchange, finished his part of the presentation, then excused himself and made a phone call. Two minutes later, Bailey came into the room carrying a manila folder. Vader introduced him and said he would run through the future proposal for them. Diane was stunned. Bailed opened the folder and pressed the NEXT button on the projector. Diane sat frozen as he proceeded to give her presentation. She looked at the table and saw that the folder contained her original notes, including her handwritten comments.

Bailey was excellent, he'd obviously prepared well and Diane knew that he'd given the presentation as well as she would have. Vader took over again and handled the rest of the meeting himself, did everything he could to smooth out the bumps. Diane looked at Bailey several times but he was calm and focused on Vader. Bailey and Vader shook hands with the team as they filed out of the room an hour later. Bailey followed the team to the elevator. Vader said to Diane without turning around, "I'll copy you on the meeting notes." He turned the corner and walked to his office.

Diane laid her head down on the table. It felt good. Cool and firm. The meeting had been a disaster. Vader had fielded every question they'd asked her, even when she was ready to answer. And any he didn't handle, he passed to Bailey. She'd been completely useless at the meeting. She sat up and looked at the folder. Photos. Her head spun again. If Bailey had them, he wasn't the only one. How many photos of her were out there? Circulating around Bailey's circle of friends? Circulating around the Internet? How long would it be until someone saw them, made the connection?

Weak with defeat, she got up and started back toward her cubicle. She saw Rodrigo walking toward her with coffee and smiled weakly. He said, "hi," but went straight into his own cube. She sat down in her chair, looked at the computer monitor, couldn't muster the energy to turn it on. She opened her desk drawer and took out a large envelope, looked around to make sure nobody was nearby, and slid the photos out of the folder and into the envelope. She sealed it, wrote her name across the front and tucked it back into the folder. She would get rid of them later. Not that it mattered, she thought.

Diane thought, coffee. Some caffeine to clear her head. She stood up and started walking toward the small kitchen on their floor. It would take her past Bailey's desk but that didn't matter. She needed to wake up. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she walked down the aisle, focused on the doorway. When she turned into the kitchen, she saw that Bailey was sitting at a table with Rodrigo. They were talking about something but stopped when she walked in. She felt her stomach drop - were they talking about her?

Diane casually waved hello, they both nodded. She poured herself a cup of black coffee, poured in two packets of sugar and walked out. Vader was standing in the hallway, hands on his hips, staring her way. She froze and he stomped toward her, an angry bull roaring down the hallway. She could see the veins in his temples and a piece of paper in his hand.

"Who the hell is Monish?" he growled, his face inches from hers.

"I...I...don't know..." she stammered. How did he know about Monish? Was her there? She looked around the floor but didn't see anyone standing.

He shoved the piece of paper at her. "I am NOT your personal secretary and I do NOT ever want to hear from him again, do you understand that? How the hell did he get past the front desk? Who is he? And who is Curtis?"

She lifted the paper and looked down at it. Vader had written, "Curtis. At one."

"I do not want to be in the circle with your personal phone calls. And I do NOT want to know what this is about. This Curtis and Monish thing. I want two things from you, Bates, can you do that? I want you to get our act together, you were miserable this morning, a complete failure. Bailey had to pull it out of the fire. You can thank him for that later. And, I want to see the updated proposal by nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Can you handle that?"

Diane nodded, "yes, yes, Mr. Vader. I'm sorry, I..." He held up his hand. She watched him as he took three slow breaths, closed his eyes. "I'm very disappointed and I am very confused. Why this Monish person would be calling me to give you a message is disturbing but as I said, I don't want to know. Just make sure it doesn't happen again." Diane nodded. "And why don't you take a few hours, take a long lunch, unwind, get back into the game. I will have my notes to you by two and you can work on the proposal later today."

If I am not out fucking strangers and making money for Monish, she said in her head. "Yes, sir," she said out loud, "I'll get my head back in the game. It's been a bad..." He raised his hand again. "Listen, no explanations. We've worked together a long time, I know you'll come through." She saw the look in his eyes. Even with her recent slump, their history was carrying her. For a while.

===

Diane got off the elevator on the first floor of her building and walked to the coffee stand. It was twelve o'clock, the note said to see Curtis at one. The problem was, she didn't know for sure where. She assumed he would be in the hotel, in the same room. But that meant she'd have to walk past the bell captain yet again. When she'd come back earlier, he's watched her walk across the lobby to the elevators, the red wig hadn't thrown him off at all. Her clothes were the same and besides, it was her body he'd focused on anyway. Now, if she came back, he'd spot her again and there would be very little question about why she was there. He'd certainly seen his share of call girls come and go, another new one on the beat wouldn't be much of a surprise. Maybe he was even in with Monish. She felt herself just a bit more miserable realizing she'd never know who was on what team from now on.

She paid for the coffee and turned to walk toward the parking garage but two men walked up to her, one standing on either side, and told her to follow them. She didn't recognize them, but was sure Monish had sent them. They had that kind of vibe.

They walked her out of the building and a few doors down the street to a hairdresser. One of them went inside and talked with the receptionist. The one who stayed with her put his arm around her waist. "You were a pretty good fuck the other night," he whispered into her ear. "I really liked your tight little ass." She didn't respond, she was starting not to care. Another anonymous face in one of Monish's gangbangs. It didn't matter to her anymore.

"Do you know why you're here?" She shook her head. "Curtis is very upset that Monish sent him a girl with a wig." She anticipated where he was going, looked around for a way to run. "We're going to remedy that. He wants a redhead, he gets a redhead."

"I'll never make it by one," she protested, her voice between a whine and a plea.

"Not my problem," the man said.

"Is he at the same place?" she asked. "It's fifteen minutes from here, we'll never make it. Monish will be upset at you."

The man laughed and squeezed her waist tighter. "No, honey. Monish won't really care. Curtis, on the other hand, will not be too happy. He may go a little rough on you." Diane trembled at the idea that Curtis thought he'd been going easy on her the first time.

"By the way, since Curtis had to stay an extra day, the hotel room is going on your credit card." Diane looked into her small purse, her wallet was still there. The man laughed. "We've had your card numbers for weeks, we don't need the car. It's all electronic, honey. Get used to it."

The door swung open and the second man motioned for Diane to enter and follow one of the hairdressers, a man in his early twenties.  He looked her up and down and gave her a sneer. She wondered what they'd told him. How she'd been described. Bored housewife? Hooker? Whore? Slave? Who knew? Who cared?

"Now, this is going to burn," he said before they reached the chair. "You are *evidently* in a hurry so I will have to skip the preparation and go right to the dye. Sit." He pushed her into a chair and tilted it back quickly. She nearly lost her balance and fell out. He sprayed her hair and shampooed her quickly and roughly. Then, he threw her a towel and walked out of the room. She jumped up and followed him.

He was right about it burning. She'd dyed her hair before but this was nothing like that. She didn't know what he used, couldn't imagine it was sold over the counter, but he slathered it onto her head, massaged it in with rubber gloves, then immediately started combing it out. Her eyes teared up and she bit her lip to stop from screaming. It felt like an acid bath, the chemicals searing her head at the base of each hair.

"Ten minutes," he said and walked out of the room. Monish's two thugs came in and stood one on either side of her. One of them grabbed her left breasts and squeezed it. "Yummy melons," he laughed. The other one slapped him in the back of the head. "Grow up!"

"By the way," he leaned and whispered in her ear. "You're paying for this too." His partner chuckled and took a credit card out of his pocket, flicking it with his thumb. "And for our lunch. We may even fill the tank, it was long drive over here." Diane wasn't even listening, just concentrating on her burning scalp.

===

"Ah, now this is more like it." Curtis held the door of the hotel room open and invited Diane in. She stepped through and turned her head, looking around the room. When she saw the array of devices laid out on the bed, she froze.

---to be continued---